


Petrichor

by iavenjqasdf



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, I have no idea what tag it would be but this is like, Slice of Life, There is 0 reason whatsoever this is Brady and not just some random person, except that i like projecting onto him, i tried to make it more purple prosey and contemplative than usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 15:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13814106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iavenjqasdf/pseuds/iavenjqasdf
Summary: They were in the home stretch of their semester, a time where each threw themselves into their work, whether it was studying, or at praying that they’d manage to squeeze by with a passing grade. The loud grew quiet, and the quiet grew downright silent as they retreated to their dorm rooms, windows flickering late into the night and even into the next morning.





	Petrichor

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few months ago and just remembered I never posted it here. Shoutout to the tiny drizzle over my house for reminding me, of this fic and of the word (and concept of) petrichor

Brady muttered a curse to himself as the bus jostled, momentarily dropping the window ledge away from his elbow, gravity reconnecting his funny bone with the hard metal a moment after.

Shaking his arm in an attempt to get those dreaded pins and needles back in their place, he rolled down his sleeve, the bunched-up fabric providing a cushion to brace against as he returned to his previous state, scrunched against the side of the seat in case anyone else needed it (despite the fact that the bus was empty, apart from the driver and himself).

It had been an especially cold and wet night, one that still lingered even at this early hour when the sun should’ve been rising. Each day began just a little bit later, each night encroaching quicker to meet it. That was just how the solstices worked, but even that cold astronomical certainty gave away to a kind of quiet dread that permeated the very atmosphere of the campus.

Or maybe that was thanks to the finals. They were in the home stretch of their semester, a time where each threw themselves into their work, whether it was studying, or at praying that they’d manage to squeeze by with a passing grade. The loud grew quiet, and the quiet grew downright silent as they retreated to their dorm rooms, windows flickering late into the night and even into the next morning.

Which was what caught Brady’s eye, the chords of a distant piano twinkling through his headphones as he stared out the window. The lights of dorm rooms and streetlamps and convenience store signs glimmering through the mist, warping momentarily as a raindrop slid down the window across his line of sight. Sunrise was only a few minutes away, yet this time of the night (or was it morning?) felt like it lasted an eternity.

Sighing as he habitually checked his calendar, Brady wished that it would. The lessons on triage had served him outside medical matters; the test he was due to start in a half-hour was one he’d neglected to study for, in favor of trying to buoy his grades in another class.

He’d never been in the military (childhood asthma, as well as the fact that the draft had been abolished long ago; that was probably enough of a reason on its own, come to think of it), but he imagined this was what it would feel like to march into battle knowing you were outnumbered and outgunned.

Maybe allowing himself a cup of the hot tar they euphemized as coffee would help perk him up, or, more realistically, manage to get a few more twitches from his lifeless body before he collapsed mid-stride. Or perhaps some tea, instead; he used to love having tea when it rained, watching the steam rise in the cold air of his mother’s porch until she’d chide him to hurry up and drink it before it got cold.

The bus groaned to a halt again, laboriously swinging its doors open despite the fact that the stop was devoid of all life. Brady eyed the sign; two more stops, then he’d be within a minute’s walk of the lecture hall.

He queued up a new song, wondering if the few minutes he had left were enough time to steal a moment of sleep. This was going to be a long day.

**Author's Note:**

> (nuts over my own pretentiousness)


End file.
